Through the Rain
by Delirium Syndrome
Summary: After Belgium surrenders to Germany in WWII, she and a group of refugees escape her country and high tail it to England for safety and to join the Allied cause.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter One**

_I can't run much longer._

"England!" Belgium called in a hoarse voice. After two weeks of fighting for her life she was beaten and bloodied. She had surrendered, but her pursuers didn't care. They wanted to destroy even her smallest hope. The German troops were closing in on her. Not the man himself, no, she was just another casualty to him. A pawn in his way. He was already on his way to the next piece on the chessboard, a more important one.

She ran and she ran, with all of the strength she had left. Eventually the soldiers would give up; stop caring. And just as her vision began to fade she knew that that was what was happening. They were turning back now. After all, she wasn't important. They already had her land, most of her people, her government officials. What could a handful of Belgian refugees do?

_Just you wait. I'll show you what this tiny bit of hope can do._

* * *

Thanks for reading the first chapter of Through the Rain. If you came over from Thank You for You Kindness thank you for being so loyal through all of the long waiting and the story change, as you can see, it's already a bit different. If you are completely new, welcome. I hope you enjoy my story (note: I don't own Hetalia or any of the characters) and that you can put up with my inconsistency and hiatuses. Safe travels.

-Delirium


	2. Chapter 2

_Chapter 2_

I woke up slowly, one weary, aching limb at a time. By the time my eyes finally fluttered open, I was aware of every pain in my body. I groaned and began to look around. The first thing I saw was the unfamiliar pastel yellow walls and ceiling. Then a mahogany table with a lamp on it that matched the clean, white color of the bed and sheets I was bundled in. And last, I saw a gray sky through a window that was partially blocked by a very familiar (and very asleep) bushy-browed British man.

"Oh!" I squeaked a little too loudly.

He moved in his chair beside the bed, lurched to the side, and promptly tumbled off the chair and onto the floor.

I broke into a laugh before leaning over and asking, "Are you o- Godverdomme." I cursed as I felt a fire in my ribs and fell back onto the pillow.

England was up in a second, brushing a lock of blonde hair out of his eyes, looking a bit flustered.

"I'm perfectly fine," he said, answering the question I hadn't quite gotten to finish, "But are you okay?"

_Ah, always the gentleman._

"Oh, yes, I'm fine," I hissed through gritted teeth, "Probably just broke a few ribs."

He nodded, not laughing at my sarcasm (which usually at least brought out a grin) and simply said, "I'll get the doctor and see if we have to replace any of your bandages." And with that he left the room.

Bandages, huh? I looked down and saw that I was indeed wrapped in bandages. Well, those were new. Up to this point I'd kind of just been going without, letting everyone else use the medical supplies. I'd ought to pay England back for all this later. And tell him about my country. And France. I sighed. War was hard.

Finally, England came back with a tall man wearing a bowtie and a funny red hat; I assumed he was the doctor. The man came over to my bedside and gave me a quick check-up, talking all the while about my broken bones, and bruises, and the war, and odd little things it all reminded him of. I gave his hat a soft poke, to which he responded, "Oi! Hands off the fez," shooting me a halfhearted glare.

After he'd finished redressing my wounds he spun on his heel and jogged out of the room, calling over his shoulder, "Well, gotta run! Travelling to do, people to save. The universe isn't going to see itself you know!"

Iggy paced forward, out of the corner, rubbing the back of his head.

"Sorry about the Doctor… He gets a little too excited sometimes, but he really is a good chap. I call him from time to time when I need help or advice."

"That's okay," I said, "I thought he was funny."

"Well, how are you feeling?"

"Like I have thirteen broken bones."

"Um…"

"I'm fine. I need to talk to you though. About the war."

He stopped looking shy and finally made eye contact with me. His shoulders and the corners of his mouth sagged, and his eyebrows furrowed.

"What happened?" He asked, all of the energy gone from his voice, "I'd wondered why we found you like this…"

I took a breath.

"Germany invaded. We fought from the tenth to the twenty-eighth, but we just couldn't win. The Germans were too strong for us to take alone. We surrendered. My country is now occupied by Germany."

"That's terrible!" He said, his bright green eyes wide, "Why didn't you ask for help?"

"I tried to ask Broer… But he didn't answer any of my messages."

England flinched when I mentioned my brother.

"Belgium… I'm so sorry. I thought you knew… Netherlands surrendered to Germany last week, on the fourteenth."

I felt sick. My blood ran cold and the world spun around me. My brother was strong. Stronger than me. He'd always been there, a constant landmark in a world that was constantly changing. How could he be beaten like that? How could he just be gone? I hoped he wasn't gone. Maybe he'd gotten way, like me. Maybe he hadn't. Maybe he was… Dead. I felt tears well up in my eyes. And finally I spoke.

"Before me. He surrendered before me."

It wasn't what I thought I would say, but now that I'd said it, I realized it was true. And it reminded me that my brother wasn't the only one who could be hurt and who could die. I squeezed my eyes shut and took several deep breaths. I could cry later. Right now, I had to talk to England. I still had more to say. About someone who could be saved.

"England," I said shakily, opening my eyes, "Germany's marching to France. I was just a pawn in his pathway. A bonus. He's going to take France."


End file.
